Few people have achieved as much for the kingdom of God in as little time as Henry Martyn, missionary and Bible translator, whose life ended when he was only thirty-one.
Philippines 3:7-11 seems to epitomize this man's life: "But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ. Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the Excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, And be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith."
Martyn was born in Cornwall in 1781 and was raised in an evangelical household. Well educated, he went to Cambridge to read mathematics, where he accumulated many awards. Always physically frail, he seemed set for a distinguished academic or legal career. However, shaken by the death of his father, he turned to Christ and his priorities were transformed. He became close friends with Charles Simeon, the saintly evangelical vicar at Holy Trinity Cambridge and, becoming ordained, served as his curate for two years. Simeon drew Martyn’s attention to the good work done in India by William Carey, the pioneer Baptist missionary, and with encouragement from William Wilberforce and John Newton, he resolved to go to India as a missionary.
Two complications now occurred. The first was a serious financial crisis in the family and Martyn, feeling honour-bound to assist, decided to take a salaried post as chaplain in the British East India Company, the organisation through which the British government controlled the subcontinent. Unfortunately, it was a job that restricted his freedom to evangelise.
The second complication was an affair of the heart. Martyn found himself deeply in love with a Cornish woman, Lydia Grenfell, but despite his passionate appeals she refused to marry him and accompany him to India. Although they continued to correspond, Martyn’s diaries reveal that her absence deeply affected him for the rest of his life.
In 1805 Martyn sailed for India. During the 305-day voyage, he occupied himself with preaching to those onboard and demonstrating an awesome ability at languages by simultaneously learning Urdu, Bengali and Persian.
Arriving in Calcutta, Martyn met with missionaries but found that for the next four years, his chaplaincy duties had him posted to military encampments. Weak at personal evangelism, he struggled to reach out to soldiers and officials. Martyn was also troubled by the patronising and often harsh way that the Europeans treated the Indians, and found himself frustrated by the fact that missionary activity was banned by his employers. Although only a modest success in his role as a chaplain, Martyn’s gifting showed itself in his mastery of local languages, to the extent that he could now consider Bible translation.
Increasingly troubled by tuberculosis (then incurable) and sensing that his time was short, Martyn turned his thoughts westwards to the Muslim world of Persia and Arabia where missionary work was almost totally absent. Helped by native translators, Martyn started on the task of translating the Bible, not just into one language but three: Arabic, Persian, and Urdu!
Given leave by the East India Company on the grounds of chronic ill health, Martyn decided to go to Arabia and Persia. In 1810 he left India and in Persia (modern-day Iran) completed his Persian New Testament and courageously proclaimed Christ to local Islamic scholars. He continued westwards with the hope of reaching Constantinople and from there returning to England where he could meet with Lydia. It was, however, not to be.
The last entry in his journal was written with a very feeble hand on October 6, 1812. He was very ill and wrote, "I thought with sweet comfort and peace of my God, who, in solitude, was my company, my friend, and comforter." An Armenian servant named Serges (who had been very faithful to Henry) and the monks in the Armenian monastery where he had found his last refuge buried him in an Armenian cemetery just outside Tokat. Serges took Henry's journal and what few personal belongings that remained to Constantinople and turned them over to the British consulate in that city. Henry Martyn died in Tokat about the 16th of October, 1812. He was 31 years of age-a man who literally burned out for God.
In Iran, he thoroughly revised his Persian translation of the New Testament, which, with the help of Sir Gore Ouseley (1779-1844). Reluctantly, Martyn also agreed to exchange tracts with the Muslim ulema (religious scholars), later published as his Controversial Tracts on Christianity and Mohammedanism (1824). Martyn’s ecumenical openness, his desire to implant the gospel in Indian culture, and his concern for spiritual exchange with Muslims have often been obscured by his reluctant use of polemic. Nevertheless, his legacy inspired later missionaries, such as Thomas Valpy French and Temple Gairdner toward a more irenic approach to Muslims and to Islam.
Eventually the British Ambassador to Persia did officially present to the Shah a copy of the New Testament that Henry Martyn had translated, had printed, and bound in very ornate binding. His translation of the New Testament was later printed in St. Petersburg in 1815.
The second edition was printed in Calcutta in 1816. His Urdu translation of the New Testament was printed in Serampore in 1814. On learning of the death of Henry Martyn, the English parliament passed a law changing the charter of the East India Company so that India was opened to an unrestricted preaching of the Gospel. Prior to that time, they had not allowed missionaries, per se, in India.
His journals and translations survived and soon all three of his New Testaments were published: Urdu in 1814, Persian in 1815 and Arabic in 1816. In subsequent years, they were all much used by God, either as they were or as the basis of subsequent translations.
Martyn was a complex individual. Those who met him spoke of a cheerful and affectionate man who was widely appreciated and greatly loved. In contrast, his private journals and diaries reveal a self-critical and introspective man with a tendency for depression who, somewhat bizarrely, could lament his lack of achievement. It’s hard not to think that Martyn would have benefited from a good marriage!
Martyn’s gifting was supremely that of language and he may well be the greatest linguist ever to grace the mission field. His missionary strategy is now less acclaimed, reflecting as it does a time when direct confrontation with Islam was a more common strategy than today’s gentler bridge-building approaches.
Nevertheless, Martyn remains one of the truly great missionary heroes. Let me offer four aspects of Henry Martyn that I find striking.
First, Henry Martyn had a deep love of God. Given all that he achieved in such a brief time, it’s tempting to assume that Martyn was only able to do it by curtailing his spiritual life. In fact, his journals tell us that the opposite was true. Martyn loved God and his word, and he invested a great deal of time planting and nourishing deep roots in prayer, meditation and Bible reading.
Second, Martyn applied his profound learning for God. This was a man who, it was claimed, read language grammars for relaxation and who could master a language within months. Yet that powerful intellect and ability were always employed in the service of Christ’s kingdom.
Third, Martyn was a man with a powerful loyalty to God. He had a deep sense of the honour, praise and glory that was due to God. To him, the way that men and women either failed to give God that honour or gave it elsewhere was sinful.
Finally, Martyn left a lasting legacy for God. He left a tangible legacy in his translations which for decades were circulated with great effect in India, Persia and Arabia. Yet Martyn also left an intangible legacy of great purpose. His brief but dazzling life has proved to be an inspiration for many to go and live and – sometimes – die for Christ on the mission field.
We live in an age where a long life is considered of vital importance. Henry Martyn reminds us that what ultimately counts is not the length of our life, but what we do with it.
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